


Distraction

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis demands to know why his shield skipped practice.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 26
Kudos: 188





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Of course it would be the one time Noctis actually bothered to wake up. Nine times out of ten, he’s still in bed when his training’s supposed to start, and he has to fight off the noise of his alarm and Ignis’ angry calls. He’s even had Gladiolus kick his bedroom door open once or twice, and he’s been dragged off by the scruff of his neck before. Then Noctis finally commits to being a responsible adult—well, has a bad nightmare and doesn’t want to fall back asleep—he gets himself to the Citadel all on his own, sets up in the training yard, and the one and only time that happens, Gladiolus doesn’t show.

At first, Noctis thinks it’s a prank—Gladiolus trying to ‘give him a taste of his own medicine,’ except it drags on for fifteen minutes, then half an hour, and no one’s popped out to laugh yet. Noctis shoots Ignis an irritated text, and Ignis replies that he’s Noctis’ babysitter, not Gladiolus’, and while Gladiolus will certainly receive a sound scolding for neglecting his duties, Ignis is tied up in a meeting and unable to actually do anything about it. He suggests Noctis mitigate his damages by grabbing any one of the other bazillion trained Crownsguard positioned around the Citadel. Except sparring matches are awkward and annoying and Noctis has only just gotten used to putting up with the stench of Gladiolus’ enflamed pheromones and sweat—the last thing Noctis wants to deal with first thing in the morning is some strange alpha snarling and rushing at him. He’s already promised Ignis he won’t train with omegas until Gladiolus has taught him to fully control his own stench and urges. Training was so much easier when he was young and undesignated. Although he still hated getting up early for it. 

Kid-Noctis would’ve been over the moon at an excuse for a morning off. Teenage-Noctis would’ve curled up in the changing rooms and caught up on sleep right there. Adult-Noctis is still haunted by his Imperial zombies nightmare and figures if he doesn’t get to sleep in, Gladiolus shouldn’t either. He finds one of the on-call Citadel drivers and makes her take him to Gladiolus’ apartment. She pulls into the underground lot and asks if she should wait for him, and he says no, because he has no idea how long it’ll take to alternatively tease and berate his shield for missing a session.

He knows the code to the front door so doesn’t have to call up. He doesn’t want to give Gladiolus warning. It’s not until he’s in the elevator that he first wonders just why Gladiolus is absent. It doesn’t really make sense that Gladiolus would’ve slept in. He’s not _Noctis_. He’s probably not sick, because that would’ve been easy enough to call and tell Noctis about. He can’t have been kidnapped, because he’s the fiercest alpha in Insomnia and couldn’t possibly have been over-powered. He’s not bonded, so he couldn’t have been staying home to help an omega partner through heat.

Except even before Noctis knocks on the door to Gladiolus’ apartment, he can smell the muffled musk of _omega_ behind it—a strong, cloying, impossibly warm haze that immediately churns Noctis’ stomach in the best of ways. A few seconds later, and the door’s opening, but it’s not Gladiolus on the other side. It’s a trim blond omega with a light dusting of freckles and the prettiest blue eyes Noctis has ever seen. The omega blinks at Noctis in obvious surprise, and Noctis is hit with a cloud of pheromones so strong that he’s instantly hard.

The fact that the omega’s _gorgeous_ might also have something to do with it. He looks about Noctis’ age, Noctis’ height, even Noctis’ build, but his colouring is light, his body flushed pink, his golden hair bright and soft-looking and messy, like it’s just had eager fingers running through it. He’s not wearing any pants, but the shirt he’s got on is so large on him that it covers his slender hips, just barely hiding his crotch. His creamy thighs are still visible beneath it. The shirt even dips down one shoulder, and it vaguely registers as one of _Gladiolus’_ old shirts. This must be Gladiolus’ omega. A brand new one. Or Gladiolus has just been keeping him secret. Which is understandable. If Gladiolus had brought this omega to the Citadel, every alpha in the place would’ve been on him in a heartbeat.

Including Noctis. Especially Noctis. Noctis’ mouth goes dry the longer he stares at the beautiful blond. Then the blond lifts a hand to scratch at his pale neck—covered in finger-shaped grooves and red bite marks—and Noctis catches a faint whiff of Gladiolus’ familiar scent. It kicks his brain into gear enough to ask, “Uh, is... Gladio here...?”

“Oh, sorry,” the blond chirps, snapping to life. “Right, um... yeah. I’m his new omega.” The blond thrusts out a hand, which Noctis takes without a second thought, and that proves to be a bad move, because the blond’s skin is soft but slightly clammy, like it’s still slick with sweat. It’s obvious from the shade of his skin and the dilation of his pupils that he’s still recovering from a deliciously recent orgasm. He smiles shakily and squeezes Noctis’ hand. “It’s Prompto. Gladio’s still in bed. I, uh... well, I might’ve worn him out a bit...” He breaks off to chuckle awkwardly. Noctis’ eyes widen. Prompto must be one hell of an omega if he can wear out _Gladiolus_ , even in full heat. Which Prompto obviously is. Then Prompto sheepishly asks, “Sorry, but... uh... are you...? You look just like...”

“Call me Noct,” Noctis fills in, skipping right to the nickname, because that’s what he wants to hear Prompto screaming out in the middle of sex. He doesn’t have to add the ‘prince’ title—Prompto’s obviously recognized him. “Gladio’s my shield, so... I mean, we were supposed to have practice now...”

Prompto immediately snatches back his hand and splutters, “Shit, sorry! He said he had to get to work, but I didn’t realize—sorry! If I’d known—l-let me make it up to you! I can—” His fingers twitch, but he just sort of trails off. His eyes are staring into Noctis, eating Noctis up, like Noctis wants to do to him. Prompto bites his bottom lip and chews it for a second, then sucks in a deep breath and follows up, “I... if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you... absolutely _anything_ at all... just say the word...”

Noctis knows exactly what he wants as penance. He wants to back Prompto up into the apartment, shove him against the far wall, rip Gladiolus’ shirt right off him and ravage him so thoroughly, so wildly, that it’ll make Noctis sweat more than training would’ve. Prompto looks like he could take it. 

Prompto looks like he _wants_ it. Noctis wants it so bad.

Except Gladiolus’ hickey is bruised into Prompto’s throat, and Noctis begrudgingly holds his raging hormones in check. He mumbles, “No prob... uh... can I see Gladio, or...?” He mainly just wants to come into the apartment. It doesn’t matter if a man he’s considered his friend since childhood sees him with a chubby or not. He just wants to be in the full brunt of Prompto’s pheromones and see Prompto’s nest and hopefully see Prompto’s ass. 

Prompto hurriedly steps back and vigorously nods. “Of course, sure, come in! I guess Gladio will have to make it up to you too... maybe he could let you...” Prompto sort of trails off. Noctis automatically perks up. _Maybe he could let Noctis borrow his new omega?_ At the very least, maybe Noctis could watch. Maybe they could share? Prompto smiles hopefully and rephrases, “Maybe we could arrange something?”

Noctis steps inside and breathes, “Yeah.”

Smiling wide, Prompto shuts the door. The palpable heat descends on Noctis. He follows Prompto through to the bedroom like a soaking wet omega, fully ready to forgive his wayward shield in exchange for a taste of heaven.


End file.
